


symbiont

by seppuku



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: CYBORG PUSSY, Cunnilingus, Incest, M/M, Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seppuku/pseuds/seppuku
Summary: Squeezing his eyes shut, his armoured belly was tensed tight, slowly exhaling through his teeth before he looked back at him. The pad of his thumb came to the age old furrow between Hanzo's brows, trying in vain to smooth them out, his voice just contained, "...It's only you and me,"





	

**Author's Note:**

> ʕ◉ᴥ◉ʔ it be like that sometimes

His bones were laid in this place, the cobwebs and the dust, the foundation his muscle and his blood the flickering lanterns that threatened to blow out with each chilling gale. He could never truly leave - even if he burnt it to the ground the taste would stay in his mouth, and even if he slit his own throat with the chipped blade, the chains and hooks in his ribs would keep him grounded.

 

                It always started the same, too; guided hands over synthetic flesh, along the warming hum of green lights that seemed almost sickly to him then. He would never pull away, though, and he would never say no. Bile didn't rise in the back of his throat anymore, and after his hands would thaw, there would no longer be any hesitation.

 

                Genji's tongue curled around his fingers, a part of him he knew was real from enough experience. His huffed breath made it sticky, warm like the colour painted along both of their features. With the faceplates set aside, it was equal parts harder and easier to be like this.

               

                On one augmented hand, with the smooth metal set over the scars, there was a disconnect, and Genji was faceless and he anybody else. On the same hand, it was his brother without them, that fact a barb of conflict deep in his guts.

 

                He didn't know what he tasted like, only that it wasn't like his own mouth, nor like any other, but he was baying for it all the same once the time rolled around. Feeling the tatami under his palms, his nails dragged over it, gooseflesh crawling along his shoulder blades as those lithe hands undressed him, pulling the worn robes down to bunch at his waist.

 

                Lips he knew were scarred kissed over his painted arm, the coil of dragons interrupted with old wounds passed. Other than the building around them, the body beneath him, it was all he had left of the family - all that he chose to keep.

 

                "Hanzo,"

 

                He must have been distracted, owlishly blinking at him, feeling a bead of sweat run down the column of his spine. Hands came to his face, meticulously careful, the pad of his brother's thumb swiping over his lower lip.

 

               What had been melded to Genji wasn't as soft as the real thing, but it was just as giving aside from the metal plates. He was weighty in his lap, his back pressed to a corner wall. This place was empty apart from the both of them, and maybe even then.

 

                Any semblance of restraint whittled away under Genji's hands, as though he knew just which strings to pull, where to lay the pressure to make him crack easily. His touch shifted down his chest to his broad pectorals, tracing the smattering of scars to his nipples.

 

                Words were spaces between them, and Genji didn't say much in this unless he had to, despite everything bubbling up in his chest all at once when he'd see his brother's expression pinch under his fingertips, when he'd feel his nipples grow taut and hard. Hanzo was always sensitive there, and he himself wasn't a stranger to the administration.

 

                Peeling his clothes away was like taking off parts of armour dented over ten years, and once Hanzo was bare in front of him, he still felt infinitely more wide open beneath those dragon's eyes, pinned without weight under the sharp, hungry gaze.

 

                Genji's back slid down the wall as he felt the other's legs pull out from under him, replaced instead with a rough palm that splayed over his underbelly. As if on cue, the canisters in his shoulders rose, a jut of steam spraying out tinged in the same green light, his thighs spreading apart, heels digging into the tatami.

 

                The click that went through the room resounded, only just louder than their thrumming pulse, Hanzo's hand sliding down between his thighs, to where they met his torso. Clear fluid came away with the darker plating, thick and viscous stretching between it and the crux of his legs.

 

                A shudder he shouldn't have been able to feel ran down his spine and Genji craned his hips as his cock slid from its internal sheath, coated in the same fluids. It twitched with the clench of his stomach, two fingers pressing to the bottom of the wet slit beneath it, the lips of his pussy flushed.

 

                The first time they'd been together, it had been over almost as soon as it started, and Hanzo showed much less of a reaction than he thought he would to his set. Maybe he had afterward, when the come was drying on the insides of his thighs and he felt like he couldn't get enough breath in and his brother was long out of arm's reach.

 

                It didn't matter once he felt those fingers run up over him. Hanzo's were rougher than his own, and his touch was always more firm, but it was still teasing even as the lips were parted, the back of Genji's hand coming over his mouth. A bead of lubricant slid down his ass to settle on the mat as a translucent drop, leaving a glistening streak.

 

                His brother's gaze was always scrutinizing he'd soon realised after the first time, and as if by a fluke, the cockiness he'd lost over the years tended to come back like this. Licking over the corner of his mouth, he brought his hands down to his spread thighs, baring himself, the shame of it something he could save for later - if it ever came.

 

                Hanzo took the bait, always did. He was tasteless, scentless, the fluid he licked away only faintly metallic, salty, like sweat. It wasn't the taste he was after, instead it was the sound Genji would make at the first lap of his warm tongue, sweeter than anything else. A shaky hitch, both hands knotting in his hair. The tie holding back the inky black strands was pulled away, long locks spilling over his shoulders and back. He could see the end of it in the corner of his eyes, his brother having brought it to his face, the silk against one blushing cheek.

 

                Genji's core radiated heavy heat like this, and Hanzo could feel it in his mouth, more steam coming from his shoulders in gouts as his tongue slid in, the tatami under his stomach. Inside his cunt was all smooth, warm, laving over the sides in a manner almost too practised.

 

                He was so close to him like this, buried between his thighs, making up for lost time and time they had yet to lose. Drinking in each sound and movement, each tug of his hair, Hanzo groaned low against his pussy, the wetness smearing over his beard.

 

                "Like that--" Genji forced out, his voice clipped, only to grit his teeth seeing those eyes look up and meet his own.

 

                Hanzo knew this body as well as he did, each inch mapped under his fingers, each synthetic nerve ending fizzling beneath the armour plates he'd make sing. His arms came to wrap around his brother's thighs, one gripping his hip, nails digging in, the other feeling up the serpentine curve of his back as he arched it out.

 

                Padded feet and ankles came to rest on his back, feeling the slick walls tremble around his tongue, Genji grinding shallowly, slowly, against his mouth and the prickles of his beard. From the position, Hanzo could see the soft of the underside of his jaw, heard the dull thud of his head tipping back against the wall.

 

                 Each time, he'd wonder if he was quite this receptive before everything else, back in their time here that seemed so very far away in that moment. It would pass with another pull of his hair, and he'd feel him clench up, his brother trying and failing to bite back a wanton sound as he'd come.

 

                Thinner fluids ebbed from his pussy, dribbling down his chin as he ate him out through it, lines of synthetic white lacing along Genji's belly. His breath came sawing from his lungs, puffs in the gentle steam that had settled around them, sticking to Hanzo's skin, further dotting the sweat on his shoulders.

 

                It was only a weak but insistent tug to his hair that would get him to move, snaking up his body and between his legs. He was hard now, the length of his cock against his thigh as he slanted their mouths together with a suddenly needy fervour.

 

                Genji could taste himself on his tongue, sharp teeth closing around his own having him shudder further, his shaking hands scrabbling at his back. His lips were always bruised after this, the few marks Hanzo could actually leave on him gentle, aching reminders. Wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders, he threaded one hand into his hair, his thighs squeezing against his hips as his head was forced back again.

 

                Hanzo's lips and tongue were at his throat, tracing the lines of sinew, and if his pulse could reach that far, he'd feel it beating like a hummingbird's. He kissed his brow, messy, having to swallow down the spit in his mouth before he buried into his neck in kind, fingers knotting in against his scalp.

 

                "I want you--... in me," Genji breathed against the side of his throat. "--Fuck me, brother,"

 

                He need only ask and Hanzo would oblige; there was little he could take from him now and even less he could deny him. Genji was limber in his hands, moldable, and he shifted between his thighs, his prick sliding up over his wet cunt. If he didn't do it himself, his brother would take it from him, reach down between them and force him inside. He was impatient like this.

 

                Thighs spread between his, he reared his hips back, enough to bring the head of his cock before the parted slit. His fingers curled around the base, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. Without fail, there was always a weight on his shoulders at this point, bearing down on him, gravity culminating at that exact moment.

 

                A gentle swathe of Genji's hands over the sides of his face would eventually wash it away, the persistent forelock of hair pushed back, his brother's brow pressing to his and having their warm breath mingle between them. It did little to settle the heart beat in his ears, on his tongue, but it grounded him enough to press forward.

 

                Even with fingers in himself in the spaces between, Genji had to get used to the feeling again each and every time. It didn't hurt, and the fluids eased it, but the feeling of his synthetics stretching around the thickness of him was something he didn't think he would be able to get used to any time soon. His jaw fell open, his heavy eyelids fluttering as an almost delicate sound forced itself from his chest, his brother's groin pressing flush to him.

 

                Squeezing his eyes shut, his armoured belly was tensed tight, slowly exhaling through his teeth before he looked back at him. The pad of his thumb came to the age old furrow between Hanzo's brows, trying in vain to smooth them out, his voice just contained, "...It's only you and me," It was an inkling of reassurance he could give with his brother's cock buried hilt deep into him.

 

                It took some steeling for Hanzo to peer back at him, caught in the clutch of pleasure and something else roiling in his guts. Even as it did, he didn't want to stop it, both amplifying as he slowly pulled away, his flesh coming from him covered in the lubricant.

 

                They were rhythmic, in tune with one another, and like this it felt like the crater between them was a little shorter. Genji's hips rolled up against his with each slow pass, holding onto his shoulders. He couldn't break his gaze, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, his sight fuzzy but focused on him.

 

                One hand was holding his hip in a vice-tight grip as the other was pressed to the wall beside them, and Hanzo's nails dragged into it almost hard enough to leave marks in the tired wood. More fluid ebbed out between them, streaking the thatch of hair above his groin and the smooth curve of Genji's ass.

 

                "H-Hanzo..." His voice was weak, each inhale hitching at its peak as all else around them seemed to melt away - the weathered architecture, the old blood and old blood stains.

 

                Pressing in close, almost enough for their chests to brush against each other, flesh on synthetic flesh, Hanzo's breath was right by his ear, hot, huffed out. Genji slid his arms around his neck proper, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping him there.

 

                It built slowly between them, Genji clenching down around his cock every few moments as a displaced angle would send sparks down his spine. He wanted him to feel it as he did, as whole and as full and as maddening as his brother made him like this.

 

                They couldn't hear the batters of wind on the loose sliding doors, the muted howls as it ran through the empty rooms and halls, just their breathing and the wet sounds between them. Genji needn't ask for more for Hanzo to give it to him, not that he could coherently manage words, the hiking urgency building in his stomach. His thrusts pushed him firmly against the wall behind him, and though he'd just come, the next was coming on quick.

 

                His thighs squeezed around Hanzo's hips, his toes curling behind the small of his back as his hand tightened in his hair. His brother's name fell by his lips in a whorish mantra, spit running down the corner of his mouth, jostled in his lap. He was always louder than him in this.

 

                Hanzo breathed raggedly through his teeth, buried still into the crook of his neck, but he wanted to see him come, see him reduced to it, see his brother unwind from what he did to him. His eyes were dark, his brow pressed to his temple, sight flitting over Genji's face. A masterpiece of machinery and flesh, there in his hold, trembling around his prick. Beneath the scars he could still see his face.

 

                Dazedly, Genji looked back at him, and it only took the briefest of scant touches along his cock for him to lock up, pupils blowing and glazing over. He seized around the length inside him, his fingers digging hard enough into Hanzo's shoulders to leave bruises. The sounds he made were to die for, hot and unabashed, pouring from his dry throat.

 

                He squirmed over his cock as the shocks ran through him, bolstered by the flooding heat he felt fill him up to the brim, Hanzo's back shuddering under his hold. Come smeared over his belly and down between his legs, thick drops forced out of his cunt beside his brother's dick to further stain the mat beneath them.

 

                It was a gorgeous sight and a better feeling. Hanzo wasn't sure if the fact that he only truly felt whole with his brother like this was a blessing or one of the very worst things he could think of. He listened to him pant and felt the residual tenses  wrack through his body, and he decided he didn't need to know right then.

 

                Slowly, Genji's grasp on him loosened. His hands were twitching, like the nerves connecting him to his prosthetics were slowly coming back, his bitten lips swiping over the corner of the other's.

 

                They were back in the side room of their old home, decrepit and ruined, but they could think for a moment that it wasn't just so. Hanzo kissed him, painfully softly, his nails chipped against the wall before he held his brother's face between his hands.

               

                As his fingers traced over the scars he left there years before, the both of them were already a fading memory - until the next time came around, and the time after that, and the time after that, too.

 

               


End file.
